Small Soldiers
by Zeff N Company
Summary: FtSKM: FFVII!verse Partial AU In this world, they were friends. Brothers. Comrades. Whatever it was, they had each other, and nothing would change that. Platonic!CLC
1. Eldest in the Wasteland

_Originally written for the Strifehart Kink Meme._

_Prompt: just about anything with the intense cuteness that is Crisis Core Cloud. =D And Squall/Leon (of course)._

* * *

The boy was barely ten – about four years his junior – when they first met, the eldest of the orphans in Shinra's care facility. He was a bit of a punk, and that in Cloud's honest opinion was what made it so hard for his caregivers to really get along with him. But there was a definite, honest streak about the younger boy that helped them become friends.

So when he found out that the kid had upped and left quite suddenly, he nearly dropped his duties to go after him himself. But of course, he couldn't – it was a SOLDIER mission, and he was no SOLDIER. Just a lowly grunt… No, it was his newer friend Zack who went after the boy, promising him that he would get the kid back in one piece.

Some harrowing hours of waiting later, the SOLDIER kept his promise to the letter. The stolen accessory was returned to Shinra, and the boy himself was confined as punishment. Never mind that he was only twelve, there were rules to follow. It took another day before Cloud had enough time off-duty to visit the young delinquent. He found him sitting up, bruised and battered but otherwise intact. The boy refused to look at him initially, stubbornly facing the wall instead.

Cloud wanted to ask him what he was thinking – the first group of orphan escapees had been only up to some mischief when they hid in the caverns, but the wasteland was so much more dangerous. No matter how talented or highly trained he was, he was still a kid. He could have died.

"I was worried about you," he admitted to that kid now, his tone unintentionally harsh. Nothing more was said, or had to be said. Not without starting a fight that would leave both even more at odds.

"I got this for you…" The boy had turned at last, and in his hand was a very dusty looking bundle. Cloud took it – unfolded the cloth – and found a filthy, scratched pair of Kaiser Knuckles.

"They'll make you stronger," the boy continued hopefully. "Maybe you can use them to get into SOLDIER."

Even a little kid was looking out for him, Cloud realized. That kind of hurt, but at the same time… it was kind of warm.

The boy was studying his feet, as he swung his legs back and forth. He seemed nervous, but determined about something. Before Cloud could ask what it was, the kid hopped off the stool he had been perched on and stood at full height – which wasn't really enough yet. Unbelievably hard eyes for one so young stared into the softer, gentler ones of the blond infantryman, and the kid mustered his courage as he spoke.

"I don't care if he saved me today," he blurted more than stated. "I won't lose to him."

"Him"…? Did he mean Zack?

"I'll get stronger too," the boy promised stubbornly. "I'll catch up, and when you're a SOLDIER, I'll be the one who fights beside you."

Cloud stared, quite stunned, at the boy who was not quite tall enough to see him eye to eye but trying his damnedest to anyway. Finally, he smiled, and then he laughed. Before his friend could take it the wrong way, he reached forward and ruffled brown hair filthy with sand and dust.

"I understand," he answered sincerely. "Thank you, Squall."


	2. Racing Against Time

_Originally written for the Strifehart Kink Meme (so yes, if you want more, prompt me for it.)_

_Prompt: another male expresses interest in a serious relationship with Cloud; With Leon getting jealous because he hasn't let Cloud know he's in love with him yet; Ending in cute Leon/Cloud, of course._

_... So okay, this probably isn't what the anonymous prompter had in mind. I had fun nonetheless.  
_

* * *

He hated being so small. He hated being a kid, being called a kid. He hated, especially, how everyone talked down to him just because he was a kid.

So what if he wasn't exactly old enough to know some things? He was old enough to kill, wasn't he? But no, no matter how much training was pushed on him to make his mind grow up faster than his body, everyone always thought he was a kid.

Even Cloud thought he was just a kid. He hated that, hated how his first friend was four years older than him. He hated how his _only_ friend was four years older than him, because that meant that time was not on his side; if he did not hurry up and grow, he would never catch up to his only friend.

If he did not hurry he would be left behind, but already he was losing what little time he had.

The first time he was aware of this new revelation, was after training one fine day. Cloud had come to see him, as he usually did, and they sat to talk over mealtime. As what started to become usual, Cloud would talk about that SOLDIER he had met – Zack.

He didn't like this Zack, even if he never met him. "SOLDIERS are jerks," he insisted around a mouthful of bread. And when Cloud protested that point, he added "well _you_'re not one yet…!"

Having had this conversation often enough, Cloud ignored it and went on talking about this new SOLDIER friend of his. "You know, he's asked me out for lunch-"

And that was the moment that he in all his young years had dreaded. Even if he was a kid, he was old enough to know that if you wanted to take someone out to eat – never mind which meal – that meant you liked them. That meant you liked them _a lot_.

"Did you say 'yes'?" he asked a little too quickly, although he tried to pretend it was no big deal. Cloud shrugged.

"Well, I was still a little queasy then, so maybe next time."

And for the first time in his short life, he wished he was older. All he needed were those four years, so that he could stop being small and stop being a kid. Maybe then he could stop Zack from butting in.

Without having met Zack, he decided he hated him. And when he finally did meet Zack – and became indebted to the man for saving his life – he hated him even more.

That was when the pranks started. The item cache was either empty or booby trapped. One SOLDIER sword – always Zack's – regularly went missing or was tampered with. Pots of hair wax labeled "Property of Fair" were found in every location aside from the SOLDIER's room. Someone had to chase Zack across the SOLDIER floor to remove a "KICK ME HARD" paper sign stuck to his pants.

None of them worked. Not one of them was enough to tell this stupid SOLDIER jerk to just back off and leave Cloud alone. It was infuriating, and several times he was tempted to just _let_ himself get caught, just so he could show that jerk he meant business.

_I saw him first!_ He wanted to shout. _He's mine! Find your own!_

He never got that chance. When the next shoe fell, he was still a kid and Cloud was still with Zack. By then, some heated tension involving Shinra kept Zack from being around enough for pranks, and Cloud from visiting as often. And when the blond finally did show up, it was to inform him that he had to leave for a much longer period of time.

And Zack would be going with him.

It hurt. All the way, each and every part of him was aching. All that he had done prior had failed, and he had lost. He had lost to Zack, the stupid SOLDIER jerk who acted more like a kid than he did. Losing to Zack was a like a punch in the stomach.

Losing Cloud… was like a stab in the gut.

_Four more years,_ he reminded himself bitterly. _Just four lousy years, and you could be walking out there with him._

He didn't have four years. He only had his present small kid self, and when he thought he had Cloud, he realized he never did. Already, the infantryman was getting ready to go, and he knew what little time he had was gone.

"Don't go."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Cloud was looking back – looking down – at him, and he saw his fingers shaking. He swallowed around the hard lump in his throat, and when he spoke again, he struggled so hard he thought he was choking.

"Stop already," he was begging. "Stop shaking me off. I want to catch up to you, so stop leaving me behind."

He felt Cloud come back, wrapping his arms around him. For a faint moment, he noticed all the differences that four years could make in a growing male. He felt so much tinier than he was, so much more inadequate. All he really had to go on was his resolve and his pride, and with his pride crumbling to nothing as he cried like a baby, he gave in to his resolve instead.

"I love you," he spoke quietly, trying his best not to stutter. "I love you, and I don't even know what love means."

Cloud said nothing in reply, as he held him close in some form of reassurance. Without anything else to go on, he hugged back.

He pretended they could stay this way forever, and for a little while – there in the part of him that loved Cloud too much to let him go – it was enough.

"You're it, Cloud," he struggled to explain. "You're my reason for fighting."

What he heard next, he was not entirely sure if it was real or imagination. He liked to think it was real.

"I know, Squall," he thought he heard Cloud whisper back in his ear. "You're mine, too."


	3. One Time in Wall Market

_Originally written for the Strifehart Kink Meme (I love how I can look at anything and see it as a sequel now)_.

_Prompt: Striptease._

_(Stepping away from the Crisis Core setting momentarily to bring you what these two would have been like in FFVII as young adults. No set time line, though - I can hop back and forth but I'll warn beforehand.)  
_

* * *

When Tifa called him on the radio, he had been relieved to hear that Aerith and Cloud were with her; all the more so when he heard they were all alright. He was, however, puzzled over the strange request to bring spare changes of clothes with him.

Upon finding them in the sewers of Sector 6, one question was answered, giving way to an even bigger question.

"… Ms. Lockhart?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Why is he wearing a dress?" he asked first, eyes never leaving the irate blond pacing about in a huff, then "and why is he attempting to rip it off in the most damaging way possible?"

Ignoring them and cursing his heart out, Cloud continued to pace, still tearing the silk dress apart, piece by soft and shimmering piece, and flinging them as far as possible into the sludge-filled waters. The diamond tiara and blond wig were already discarded far away in sorry, sodden heaps.

Tifa sucked a deep, long breath between her teeth while watching the still angry fighter in his tirade. "It's… well… It's a little complicated to explain," she replied briefly. "You'll understand when you're older."

Usually, they both knew Squall would protest that he was already a full seventeen years of age, and most certainly did not appreciate being talked down to as though he were even younger than that – never mind if _Marlene_ was currently the only one younger than he was in their group. Now, in this dispensed case, the brunet teenager was quite happy to not know and to never know.

"Aw, Cloud…!" Aerith protested, watching as more shreds of the severely abused dress flew from the older man's form. "And you looked so _pretty_ in that…!"

Cloud spared a few short seconds to cut himself off from anything wounding he could say in retort, and then went right back to ruining the dress as much as he could. Oh yes, that dress was coming off now, but in the work of a berserk animal more than a dignified, civilized human being.

By now, it was pretty much pointless trying to talk to the very embarrassed and very much pissed off person before them. Shaking their heads, voicing similar thoughts of disappointment and amusement, Tifa and Aerith accepted the clothes Squall held out to them. They moved a short distance away and ducked behind some cover to change, leaving the pair of young men alone with one another.

All throughout, the younger of the two could not take his eyes off the older. Bit by bit, piece by piece, more and more of Cloud's bare body was being revealed to him. Not just the upper torso that he figured he was comfortable enough to look at, but below that; _way_ below that, "below the belt" as people liked to call it. While he had never gotten the time to think about how, exactly, he felt about Cloud in _that_ sense before, he had plenty of time to do so now.

Quite suddenly, the blond mercenary stopped. The last of the haplessly destroyed silk dress flopped to its watery grave and sunk out of sight. There was little else left to imagination now, and Squall carefully blinked at the nearly full display of chiseled muscle and packed abs, slim curves and hard edges, skin that was more fair than tanned…

"_What are __**you**__ looking at?_" Cloud suddenly demanded fiercely, his eyes of blue-green burning with an intensity that could melt glass. At the receiving end of such a glare, Squall shrugged.

"I'm not sure yet." He paused to point at the set of lady's lingerie still clinging to Cloud's frame for dear non-life. "Will you be taking those off as well?"

He barely dodged the filthy, dripping diamond tiara that zipped pass his right ear. He didn't doge the lacy underwear that hit him smack in the face, though. Momentarily blinded by the cloth undergarment on his head, he smirked.

"_So_ mature…"

Having run out of swear words, Cloud settled with flipping him off.


	4. A little Blood, a little Water

_Originally written for the Strifehart Kink Meme._

_Prompt: Cloud gets injured badly after a battle but hides it because there are other people that need tending to (even though they aren't as hurt as him.) Leon doesn't check up on him because he trusts Cloud can take care of himself. Instead, he focuses on aiding other people that need help. I'd like to see the repercussions of Cloud trying to hide his injury and Leon trying to let him know that Cloud is just as deserving of help as other people._

_Anyone who knows who I am and follow me in the Meme have seen this one lo-o-o-o-o-ong ago. It's overdue here, but also because I have finally given up and tossed all chronological order, reason and caution to the clouds._

_Now that I no longer care, maybe filling the rest of this poor sod will be easier on me conscience. Ey... As usual, I thank one and all for their patience with me (thinly stretched as it is)._

* * *

Waking up started as a slow, sluggish and blurry experience, a brain stuffed with cotton and limbs heavy with lead. For the first few seconds that dragged in his diminished sense of awareness, everything seemed surreal. He took a breath, inhaled a lungful of dust and smoke, and instinctively coughed. The next thing he knew, a sharp pain slammed into the center of his torso and spread out to wrap brutally about his ribcage, jarring him into alertness faster than he was ready to deal with. He could hardly breathe through it. It was like someone was pressing a steaming molten rock into his chest.

He pushed against the ground – felt grainy sand rub roughly against his fingers – and then he managed to get himself partially up, as far as his elbows could prop him. His head was spinning, and he closed his eyes for a moment; just long enough for him to regain his bearings. When he opened them again, they were watering from the smoke. Slowly, carefully, he turned his head from one side to the other, taking in his surroundings.

They were in the Sector 5 playground. He didn't think the cable could have possibly gotten all four of them that far before it had snapped. The sand pit had been partially emptied, its contents sprayed and scattered everywhere else. The stone cat was mostly in one piece, save a few scuff marks and soot trails from some remnant fires just outside the radius of sand and earth, but the plastic and metal had been _shredded._ Sharp-edged broken beams and jagged shrapnel littered the ground, some of the more precise beams embedded into the bear slide at several points about its "head".

He finally took back control over his breathing, and only then did he look down to assess the damage. The numerous scratches along the exposed skin on his arms did not look bad, but there was a bit of shrapnel – thin as a sheet of paper but long as a knife – lodged just below his appendix. The darkened area of blood around it seemed like shadows against the black material of his SOLDIER uniform – inconspicuous if he didn't go looking for it. Leaving it in was probably a better idea.

With a barely restrained growl, Cloud wrapped his gloved hand around it and yanked it out, hard and fast before he could think about it too much. Better than having the others notice.

The shrapnel with its reddened edge was discarded amidst a small pile of beams and torn fence before the former SOLDIER noticed the black of a familiar tank top.

… _oh, damn …_

Sitting up wasn't a problem. Getting to his feet, though, was out of the question. He managed a somewhat dignified crawl on hands on knees across the short distance between where he had landed, and where the boy he had spotted lay limply on his side and partially curled in a fetal position. Carefully, with a hand to an unresponsive shoulder, Cloud turned him onto his back.

The kid was still as a corpse, his bare arms decorated in an array of scratches as Cloud's were. He had not been impaled – a piece of luck if he ever needed it – but he was bleeding. His usually brown hair was sticky and stained copper, and thick red was streaking down the side of his face and over his eye.

"… shit," Cloud cursed. Tugging one glove off, he reached forward and pressed his hand against the boy's head, and then his fingers found not one, but two wounds not too far from each other. He attempted to pick the boy up by his shoulders, but the pain in his gut doubled. When he coughed, he could feel something wet and thick dribble from the corner of his lips.

"… _Shit_ …" he cursed again, between gasps. "… Kid. Kid, come on. Wake up."

As the first real blessing of the night, Squall suddenly groaned. Weak as a kitten, his hand slowly came up as he tried to touch his head. His closed eyes squeezed tighter in a grimace of pain, and after a moment of poking and probing, his fingers attempted to push Cloud's out of the way.

"Leggo 'a me …" he protested in a drowsy slur. Even bleeding all over the ground and most probably suffering from concussion, it seemed he was determined as ever to antagonize his blond senior. That was probably a good sign, and a better incentive to keep his hand clamped over the boy's face as best he could.

"Cloud!" Seconds after hearing Tifa's voice, Cloud picked up her rushed footsteps as they approached. Then they came to a stop as she took in the situation. "Oh no …"

"If you have any Potions on you," he growled out, too focused on his task and too riddled with pain to be tactful, "he could use one right now."

"'m fine," Squall insisted in the same drowsy slur. "'s head … always bleeds mor' …"

Ignoring him, Tifa popped open a Potion and Cloud lifted his hand away. What might have passed for a drunken tirade was halted with a hiss in protest as half of the liquid was tipped over his head. The rest she held inches above his bared teeth. Without another word, the teenager gave in, finishing it off in a few swallows. Then his hand came up again and wiped messily over the remnant moisture dripping down the side of his face, leaving a smudge of dark pink with red streaks.

"Welcome back, sunshine," Tifa greeted, the forced smile on her face softening with relief. Immediately she was pulling out another Potion and this time offered it to Cloud. He waved her off at once.

"I'm all right," he said. "What about you? And Barrett?"

"Just peachy, the both of us," she replied. "His gun's got another dent, but that was the most damage he's taken. He's a tough one, that guy."

"Your arm's bleeding," he pointed out.

"Was," she corrected, holding up the aforementioned arm for closer inspection. "I already took care of it before I came looking for you two. All I need now is to wash it off." Then, with a disapproving frown at Squall's streaked face, she added, "Some of us do."

"Whatever," he grumbled back.

Still, his hand came out in request – the second Potion was handed over and pocketed. Then the second Tifa straightened and headed back to look for Barrett, he immediately brought his hand up again. He was still wiping away at blood and Potion with his glove until Cloud slapped his hand away and lifted his hair to inspect the healing cuts. With the blood mostly out of the way, he found one dark line over the boy's left eye – miraculously without blinding him in the process – and another starting from somewhere above his hairline and its tip just angling from the side of his left eyebrow.

"Those are going to scar," he informed him, to which the boy shrugged.

"I'm used to scars," Squall replied, his coherency restored along with his awareness. Then he raised his hand to bat Cloud's away. "… You can lie to her, but you can't lie to me."

"I don't know what you're-"

Squall's accusing finger pointed straight at the darkened patch over Cloud's gut. By now it was wet and sticking to his skin.

"… It's not serious," he lied. The teenager's glare intensified. "… It isn't. I was SOLDIER – I know gut wounds better than you think."

Squall glared at him in silence for a while longer, then slipped from Cloud's side and easily got to his feet. Something in his eyes challenged the blond to do the same. To prove him wrong.

"… _Damn it! DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!_" they were suddenly interrupted by a loud, bellowing voice. "_WHAT THE HELL'S IT ALL FOR!_"

"… Sounds like the Boss," Squall noted quietly. "We should hurry."

And then he jogged off, leaving Cloud still kneeling awkwardly in the dirt.

"… Damned brat," Cloud grumbled. He attempted a slow, deep breath, only getting halfway before the pain forced him to stop. Then, even more slowly, he managed to get one foot under him. Then the other. He was sweating by the time he was fully upright. With one hand pressed to the wound, he made his way to the rest of the party, one careful step at a time.

"Barrett, stop …" He could hear Tifa pleading quietly. "Please stop, Barrett."

By the time he reached the others, Barrett's cursing had devolved into furious, unintelligible growls and roars and random gunfire into the sky. He was, in fact, just in time to watch the large man – strong and built like a mountain – slowly slump to his knees at the foot of the wreckage that had once been a settlement of people. Tifa had approached him, a hand on his shoulder for support. Squall lingered all the way in the back – as he always did – but his eyes had lost their usual brittle, condescending gaze, replaced instead by something genuinely vulnerable.

Biggs.

Wedge.

Jessie.

Friends.

Families.

Fathers.

Mothers.

Sons.

Daughters.

Dead.

There was blood here.

Blood that inevitably covered their hands.

Cloud tried the deep breath thing again. And failed again. Instead he cleared his throat and spoke up, "We shouldn't stay here."

"Cloud's right. Come on, Barrett." Tifa's hand turned, urging the man to his feet. "Come on, let's go."

"… damn it …" Barrett growled at her morosely, stubbornly staying put. "… Marlene …"

"… Barrett … Barrett, listen to me," Tifa tried again. Then she paused, wetting her lips before she continued, "Marlene is … I think Marlene is safe."

At once the man shot to his feet and turned around to face her fully. "_What?_"

"Right before they took Aerith, she said, 'Don't worry. She's all right'," Tifa explained. "I think she was talking about Marlene."

"… R-really?" There was such hope in the man's eyes, like he really wanted to believe it. But even that flickered away as he remembered. "But … Biggs, Wedge and Jessie …"

"All three of them were still in the pillar-"

"Damn kid, think I don't _know_ that?" the man snapped in anger. "But we … damn it, all of us fought together. I don't wanna think of them as dead!"

Squall flinched and backed off, retreating even further from the others. Ignoring him, their leader growled and punched a nearby wall. It wobbled dangerously.

"This is all screwed up … They killed our friends … They destroyed _an entire village_ just to get to us! They killed so many people … this is all Shinra's fault. It was _Shinra_, understand? _You hear me? They_'re the bad guys here. They're evil and killing everything. Killing the planet just so they can line their own damn pockets with _gil_. _GIL!_ They make me sick. _Sick_, I tell you! Our fight ain't never gonna be over until we get rid of them!"

He was waving, gesturing wildly, trying to convince himself as much as the others. But …

"This is stupid."

All of them turned to watch as Squall scuffed his foot and walked away without looking back.

"… Hey! _Kid_!" But the teenager did not answer, stalking off around a corner and out of sight. " … damn brat's soulless. How about the rest of you? You think I'm wrong?"

Tifa looked away with a tired sigh. "Barrett … I just don't know."

"What don't you know?" he demanded. "You don't believe me?"

"It's not that. I'm not sure about … I just don't know what to believe anymore."

The anger had fled swiftly from the man's face, leaving behind something else: a sort of panic, desperation to have something to grab onto for dear life. Then he turned to the last of their party who had yet to speak up.

"Cloud! What about you?"

Cloud held his silence. And then he slowly turned and walked away, in the same direction Squall had gone.

"… _Where the hell do y'all think you're going?_"

* * *

It wasn't as hard to catch up to the teenager as Cloud had thought. Even with the throbbing in his gut escalating to new levels of pain, he caught sight of the boy leaning heavily against a wall as he panted for breath, the heel of his palm rubbing over his scarred eyelid.

"How's your head?"

Squall looked up as the blond reached his side, retorting, "How's your gut?"

Neither question was answered. After another few seconds of simply breathing between them, Squall pushed off from the wall and started walking again. Cloud followed.

"Where will you go?"

"What do you care?" the boy retorted at once. Then, with a less biting tone, "How about you? Are you going after Aerith?"

"Yeah," Cloud answered. "But before that, there is something I want to know." He turned to look harder at the boy beside him. "It's about the Ancients."

Squall scoffed and turned as well, "Ancients? What about – _Hey!_"

Cloud did not know what he meant until an all too familiar flash of white hit him hard. He doubled over, fighting to breathe harder than before as he landed heavily on his knees.

Then he blacked out …

… someone … someone was talking to him …

"_Hey!"_

"… Sephiroth …?"

"_Get it together, you moron!"_

_What …?_

Ice water crashed over his chest, and he shocked awake in an instant, coughing and sputtering and drawing in irregular breaths. It hurt less – it definitely hurt less. He could actually breathe now without forcing himself to.

But damn it was _COLD_.

He blinked rapidly, until he found his focus on the boy hovering over him with an emptied Potion vial in his hand. The front of his black SOLDIER vest was soaked through and still so very icy that it made him shiver. Uncaring for the blond's discomfort, Squall tossed the vial carelessly and then pulled out another one. Cloud stared up at the boy incredulously, about to voice his puzzlement over the rough treatment when he thought he could see it again in those eyes.

The same desperate panic and vulnerability.

The same fear.

Fear of abandonment.

Fear of loss.

Then it was gone, replaced by the bitter, condescending glare he was more used to.

He coughed again. "… that … wasn't necessary."

"Neither is this." And the opened vial tilted at a dangerous angle over his lower torso while fingers snagged his belt. "So you can either drink it, or I'm upending it down your pants."

When the others caught up to them, they found Squall squatting with his back to the wall and Cloud sitting on the ground across him, meekly drinking a Hi-Potion with even swallows.

No one talked about it.


	5. I'll Be Here, Waiting

This one has no prompt from the Meme; I've wanted to do it since berkie88's review, but like everything else in my list of stuff to write, it's a slow going process. All the same, I want to get back to this again as soon as I can. Maybe before Gunmetal chapter 16, maybe after. Either way, here's wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. See you next year!

* * *

_It has become something of a crutch for him lately - an unhealthy one, by all his imposed standards. After all, the Company is supposed to be training - teaching - him to survive on his own. Alone._

_And yet there's this._

_"Honestly," that tired, long-suffering voice utters in his ear, "some days I wonder if you're really worth the trouble."_

_There's Cloud._

_Truth be told, he really can take care of himself. He was meant to. But right now, his shoulder hurts too much for him to lift his arm, and he is exhausted from the day's training as much as the pain hammering into the back of his eyes. As much as he can handle himself, right now a part of him really doesn't want to. The hands that carry him so easily despite the voice's complaints seem to agree with that point._

_"... why are you even learning how to fire a sniper rifle almost as big as you, anyway...?"_

_The hand at his back pulls him closer, coaxing him to lean into the hug just a little more; just one more little gesture to tune out what is being spoken, for what the older youth really wishes to say... but just can't: Not your fault. I'm not mad at you. I just wish you didn't have to go through this... and I hate that I can't do anything about it. He never knows what to say or do about that, so instead he grumbles in annoyance and tries to get a little more comfortable. Cloud just takes it as a cue to help him shift while never breaking stride._

_Just like that, all too soon they return to the facility's sleeping quarters. Ever since the last one in his age group was taken away, he - they - have the whole room to themselves. So when the blond lowers him to lie down, he is in no hurry to leave. Deft fingers knead the tight muscles that suffered one too many knocks from recoil, and in the haze of pain and warmth he starts to drift into empty, dreamless sleep. Every sound is a little more muted with each slow breath, except..._

_"... when you finally have to use that thing, whatever it is you do..." He can hear that worry as sharp and clear as the gunfire he dealt with earlier. "... stay safe. I don't care what your mission wants out of you, I just... I want you to stay safe. Please."_

_He wonders: Is it really so bad to want... to need someone who cares this much?_

* * *

It is the vibrations at his chest that wake him. For a few seconds, his mind is a blank; all he is aware of is the ground he fell asleep on, the wall he is leaning against, the rifle propped against his shoulder, and the phone still rumbling away in his jacket's breast pocket. He moves automatically to dig it out and answer the call.

"**The ****target ****is ****in ****position,**" a vaguely familiar voice on the other end informs him. "**Do ****you ****remember ****your ****orders?**"

The rest of his mind wakes up in an instant, and he does. "Do not alert the crowd. Especially do not alert the target. Into Act Four, there is an reenacted battle. Within fifteen seconds, terminate with extreme prejudice."

"**Good ****luck, ****sniper.**" And then there is only the dial tone.

When he lowers the phone from his ear to his knee, he does not think to put it away just yet. He doesn't have to scroll down a contact list when there are only three contacts there. The Turk he answers to is at the top for being his last call. The second is the most recent Personnel Announcement from General Affairs.

_Sephiroth... Killed in action._

_Zack Fair... Killed in action._

_Two infantrymen were also killed in action._

He picks Cloud's number and starts a new mail. In the silence that follows, all he can do is stare at the blank white space. For everything that fills his mind, he is at a loss for words. He wants to tell Cloud about his mission; he can't. He wants to know what Cloud has been doing since he left for Nibelheim; he can't. He wants to catch Cloud's attention, enough for him to at least email back with assurance that he is okay; he can't.

He wants to tell Cloud that he is terrified of what that latest announcement is implying, that he needs to know the other is alive.

He can't.

The screen dims. It lights up again when he finally types: "_**Cloud,**_"

In the theater below him, he can hear Act Three approaching its end.

"_My friend,_" the narrator declares with overly dramatic flair, "_do you fly away now, to a world that abhors you and I?_"

"I hate this show," he utters aloud. His finger moves again.

"_Even if the morrow is barren of promises..._"

He taps furiously, knowing he may never get another chance.

"_... nothing shall forestall my return._"

He is done. The phone returns to his pocket, the gun lifts to his shoulder.

Through his scope, he can just make her out. He focuses, and there she is: a woman tall and slender, of dark hair and a strange, eerie beauty. Her attention is on the two people left upon the stage: the prisoner returning home, and the lover he will leave behind in doing so.

He slowly draws in a deep breath, then lets half of it out. He centers the cross hairs upon her.

"_Of course... I'll come back to you. Even if you don't promise to wait. I'll return knowing you'll be here._"

_He __is __lying __to __you, __you __know,_ he would have told that hopeful character. _He's __not __coming __back._

_You're going to be alone again._

The scene changes. Act Four is in place, the prisoner finds one of his friends: the one they call the wanderer.

He never looks at the play. His target never takes her eyes away from it.

"_I've come this far..._" the wanderer shouts in rage. "_I will see this through to the end... and there's no way I'm sharing it with a traitor like you!_"

Shiny swords clash. Sparks fly. Thunder booms in the backdrop.

Once... Twice...

… _Now._

Thunder crashes again, and he opens fire.

_(to be continued...)_


	6. Remember Where We Were

Written for the Strifehart Kink Meme.

Prompt: "So, apparently both Cloud and Leon (Squall) have been stabbed through the chest at one point, and ironically in nearly the same exact place (yay, Masumune and icicles!) if my memory of FFVII AC is correct... I'd like to see the two of them comparing battle scars! Maybe after one of the first times they spar together, and instead of going their separate ways like they usually do they opt to go back Merlin's and patch themselves up? Choice is yours, but preferrably in KH canon, please!"

I'll probably try that KH canon part when I'm more awake, but for now here's this: the one that wouldn't leave me alone the second I got inspired for it.

* * *

_It didn't feel entirely unpleasant for him to pick up the uniform as he did. It was, instead, strangely nostalgic. Even the helmet felt like it belonged there over his head._

"_Sure brings back memories..."_

_Yet when he looked up, he wondered if maybe the visor's tinted glass was impairing his vision by a bit; the way Squall had looked at him could only have been a trick of the eye. That, or the kid must have endured some cruelty in the past from Shinra's infantrymen to explain the pain in his eyes. The feeling of concern – one he was not quite sure he really understood – flared in his gut for a brief second._

"_... What's the matter?"_

_The kid's only answer was to turn and clap his own helmet on. "Nothing," he had snapped back a little too sharply._

_He never looked his way again._

It felt almost ridiculous how the docking announcements overhead sounded clearer with his helmet on than without. Even so, the return of color to his world instead of a constant shade of green was welcomed with a sigh of relief. "Maybe this is why I got so sick of wearing it," he muttered. "The helmet, at least."

Again alone with him, Squall was already chucking his helmet as easily as a piece of garbage. He was still keeping his eyes averted, refusing to look Cloud's way even by accident. There was no time to wonder why, not with the ship reaching Costa Del Sol within the next few minutes, and the blond lowered his head as he resumed removing the assortment of belts that came between him and the uniform shirt. It went faster than he would have liked – exactly how familiar was he with being such a lowly grunt, anyway? – and too soon he was dropping the shirt to the floor. A flash of color caught his eye, and he looked up.

Still wearing the blue infantry slacks, the kid stood bare-chested as well with the shirt gripped in his hand. Any ideas that he might have seen the boy topless before had to be fake – there was no uncertainty in what exactly he was looking at now.

"_I'm used to scars."_

He could no longer doubt that this youth had been through battles. Numerous nicks from blades and bullets were but thin discolored lines against his skin, hailing to Shinra's superiority in even the finer details of military medicine; the coarse webs of burn scarring at the center of his chest looked like clumsy self-medication in comparison.

And forked lightning slashed from the highest point of his shoulder down to his ribcage, its path thick and malformed from infection to what was already so damaging. Just looking at it – looking at that young body carrying it with callous indifference – sent a chill down his spine. It was something he could not look away from, not even under the heat of an offended glare in retaliation.

"How did you survive that?" he could not help but ask. Something in that impulsive question was enough for Squall to break eye contact again.

"I shouldn't have." In his tone, in his distance, he seemed almost... ashamed.

"Try considering that a compliment," Cloud suggested. "Means you're hard to kill."

The uncomfortable tension diffused with the creep of an amused smirk. Squall faced him again and jabbed a thumb dismissively back in his direction. "Same to you."

Lowering his head again, Cloud realized he had never taken a good look at himself before. Now that he did...

The long, thinly stretched diamond at the center of his torso had been something he would only glance at, something he seemed to ignore by instinct. Looking at it closely, feeling the raised flesh under his fingers... he realized he couldn't really remember where it had come from. He tried to.

His mind flashed on Sephiroth.

… _No __surprise __there._

When the kid finally closed the distance between them and reached for their combined pile of clothes, that flash of color caught his eye again; this time he saw it a little more clearly to know where it went. And then, at last, he found it.

"... Hey."

Fingers barely brushing black material froze when a larger hand wrapped around his wrist. The first tug turned him to face the right way. The second kept him in place as the older man took a closer look at the boy's exposed chest, searching the branching of scars until he found it again. The other hand lifted, reached, and finally brushed with reverence over a gunmetal gray wolf's head about the size of his thumb. Cloud wasn't entirely sure what he was expecting – perhaps the texture of fur…? – but it wasn't that sudden stirring of warmth in his gut. There was something about it he just found captivating.

And for all his hostility and open dislike for him, Squall did not seem all that uncomfortable with what he was doing beyond the flush of his cheeks. The kid just stood there, watching his face, searching it with just the slightest glimmer of emotion in his eyes; an emotion that looked suspiciously like hope.

The spell broke all too easily when Cloud lifted his head to meet those eyes. "Should I be surprised you let me do that?"

That faint glimmer died at once, and the boy's gaze hardened again. With a disgruntled tug, Squall freed himself and snatched his tank top from the pile, tugging it over his head with little time wasted. Black slid over the scars and tattoo like a veil, hiding them and restoring to him some semblance of normality.

"You know," Cloud continued to comment, still focused on that one spot, "I didn't think you'd be a wolf person. Maybe a lion, or something else a bit more catlike."

Squall tugged the rest of the shirt into place, then one hand slid up to the side of his chest, covering that spot as though to block it from the older man's view. "Don't talk like you know anything about me," he growled. His free hand grabbed the rest of his clothes and he stalked off, reforming that distance between them once more. Resigning himself to never understanding this boy, Cloud reached for what was left of the pile to retrieve his turtleneck.

"… he must mean a lot to you," he added as an afterthought. "Whoever that pup's supposed to represent."

In the way the kid chose to keep on ignoring him, stiff and so very angry, he could only guess that he was right. Probably.


	7. If You Come Here, You'll Find Me

Well, here's the continuation to Chapter 5, again without a prompt from the Meme. Which reminds me - I apologize for how rushed it was. This one, in turn, seems a tad too short. While maybe I could have put them together as one piece, it just didn't feel right; I couldn't connect them. Hence, this...

Something tells me I'm a better writer when my mind isn't functioning well enough to hold me back by being logical. Oh well.

* * *

It doesn't hurt right away. There is always that one second left of any clarity, of the mind not yet registering what has happened.

_Failed the mission…_

_Ice spells aren't supposed to work this way…_

… _cold-_

_OhgodsIcan'tbreathe-!_

The time between still standing and having crumpled to the ground is a blank. He can't feel his arm, icy numbness is creeping up his legs, looming over the rest of him like a hungry predator. He shivers.

Cold. So cold.

He is going to die here.

Thin delicate fingers caress his cheek, nails so sharp they would have scratched him if they weren't gloved. Beyond ice, beyond fear, a voice reaches him that freezes his mind altogether.

"Poor, poor boy," the sorceress whispers to him.

Before he thought it only a claim, until her casual use of powerful magic – saving her from his bullet; slowly killing him now – has proven her worthiness for such a title. She is too dangerous. He should never have faced her alone. Shinra didn't send him to kill a witch, he realizes. They sent him here as a decoy. As bait. He's not even a life sacrificed for the greater good – no one will even know that he existed.

… no one would care.

Her fingers stroke his clammy skin again, and his mind panics further.

_Stay away from me…!_

He struggles to move. She lets him. The way she watches him is too much like the way one would watch a terrified pet stranded in the streets. He doesn't know how he managed to get his feet under him. He does know that, as soon as she tires of him, she will put him down for good.

"Such a confused little boy," she croons to him. She is in no hurry to rise, to close that gap between them again. "Are you going to step forward… or would you retreat?"

He can't escape. Nowhere to run to. Nowhere to hide.

"Life would deal a cruel hand even to a child as you…" Her hand moves, perhaps to conjure up yet another spell. "… perhaps I should save you from this predicament?"

Nowhere…

Nowhere except…

There again is that sickly glow of green at her fingertips.

"Bid farewell to your cruel childhood… and go to that place of no return."

It is now or never. He coughs, feels like he is choking on blood before he can get out a single word:

"_Fire._"

* * *

It is a brief flash of intense heat and white light, before it disappears into a thick smokescreen, but it is still enough to pose some form of distraction. By the time the air clears, Shinra security officers are already on their way toward the alleyway in the name of investigation.

The terrorist leader is gone. So is her would-be assassin.

All that remains is a puddle of blood, a manhole cover, and the open entrance to Midgar's sewers.

Sitting in the dark waters below, a discarded phone crackles and flickers in its final bouts.

**FAILED TO SEND THE FOLLOWING MESSAGE**

_**Cloud,**_

_**Where are you?**_

The phone sputters, the light dims to nothing.

All that is left is darkness.


	8. It Starts With A Fracture

_To be honest, I was going to wait on this. I had wanted to see if I could get something out for the Gold Saucer first. I had nothing, and the rest was ready to go. And then I remembered: this may very well be the only free time I'll have for a long time, never mind Thanksgiving. If I don't do it now, I may not get to do it again for way too long._

_So heck with it: have a Christmas AND Boxing Day special. The updates shall continue._

_(Also, this isn't me having a surge of inspiration; these are all half-finished pieces that I've finally gotten enough time to sit down and complete. That's why they're so fast. GM, on the other hand, isn't anywhere near ready. Sorry guys; I'll keep working on it.)_

* * *

"There it is…"

How did that saying go, again? "_Battle not with monsters lest ye become a monster…_

… _and if you gaze into the abyss the abyss gazes into you."_

Cloud's PHS started ringing, breaking the moment of tension by a crack. Digging in his pocket, Cloud pulled it out and flipped it open. "Yeah…?" Then, in a second, "hold on." His thumb found another button to activate speaker mode. "Go ahead."

"**What in hell happened down there?**" Barrett's voice boomed through the static. "**Where's the temple?**"

"It's a long story," Cloud answered, his eyes looking down into the abyss that once housed the Temple of the Ancients. "But we've found what we came here for."

A lone, evil black eye looked back up at him.

"So that's the Black Materia."

Turning, Cloud held out his PHS to Squall. "Wait here. I'm going down there."

The kid would not take it. "I'm going with you."

"I've got this."

"I don't think you do."

And suddenly, this was more than their usual arguments. Whatever had happened in the temple earlier may not have been the start of it, but it had been the last straw.

"So I spaced out for a minute there," Cloud conceded. "You know that's nothing new."

"You didn't just 'space out'," the kid retorted. "You spazzed out completely. The way you were, you looked like… like…"

The boy hesitated; perhaps that should have been his cue to not chase after it. Never stopped him before, though. "Like what, kid?"

"… like one of the Copies."

The image was still there, so very fresh in their minds: those broken, piteous wretches shrouded in their black cloaks, shivering and jabbering over and over about Sephiroth, about a Reunion…

… about the Black Materia.

"Um," Aerith broke in gently, "shouldn't we be going now? Before something else happens?"

She had a point, he noted; Squall seemed to think the same way. Yet still neither moved.

"I'm not like them, kid." Cloud wondered if maybe he was convincing himself just as much. "I want to stop Sephiroth no matter what it takes. You know that."

Squall seemed far from appeased, but he took a step back as well. Whatever hostility existed between them, he would do anything for Aerith. It was almost adorable, that devotion he showed to a single person; enough to make him feel just a little jealous.

"You're still not touching it," the boy insisted. Stubborn as always.

"Guys! _Guys_!" Yuffie suddenly interjected loudly, waving her hands with equal dramatic flair. "There's an easier way to settle this! Let's vote."

For the first time in her company, the ninja had provided them with a good idea. Heads bobbed in agreement. Grinning, Yuffie started it off.

"All in favor of Cloud holding it, say 'aye'."

He heard Tifa and Aerith. Vincent seemed undecided. Cid and Barrett remained silent over the PHS. The rest – those who had seen his questionable episode in the Temple – looked the other way. As much as it stung, he wasn't all that certain he could blame them. Had it been anyone else in their party, he wouldn't be so trusting either.

Yuffie did a deliberately slow pan, then launched for the second party: "All those in favor…"

Murmurs of assent went up immediately. Yuffie's grin widened ominously.

"… of _me_ holding it-"

"_**HELL**_** NO!**" Barrett thundered so loudly everyone jerked back from the suddenly offensive little handset. "**Kid, you take it. Guard it with your life, ya hear?**"

"Yessir."

That was that. Cloud tossed the PHS in Tifa's direction. "So are we going to get the Materia any day now?"

Nothing else to object to, Squall smirked back a little too smugly for his liking. They started their descent at roughly the same time, Aerith following after at a more cautious pace.

"No fair!" Yuffie was still protesting over their heads. "You can't go against the public opinion!"

"**I'm older than you! Shut up!**"

At the bottom of the pit, Squall reached out toward their hard-earned prize. His hand hovered in a final moment of hesitation, his gaze pointedly on the older man. Cloud stepped back and nodded, allowing the boy to take it with his complete approval.

It didn't matter who held it. So long as Sephiroth and Shinra did not get it. So long as it was kept safe. It didn't matter in the least.

In a deft movement of the hand, the material disappeared from view. "There."

"At least now, Sephiroth won't be able to use Meteor."

"Would the Ancients have?" Squall asked lightly. Aerith shook her head.

"You would need great spiritual power to use it, more than a single person could have. It would have to be somewhere special, where there's plenty of the Planet's energy."

_Like the Promised Land._

"Let's head back," Cloud suggested, already looking back up where they had come from. Aerith was starting to follow when Squall stopped her from behind.

"Wait…"

She turned, saw something in that boy's eyes. "… what is it?"

And then, they all felt it at the same time: a chilling darkness that descended upon them despite the near stifling humidity of the forest. They knew what it meant, long before its source finally revealed himself. He who believed himself a god… descending from on high, his black coat catching in the air behind him, he was the image of a dark angel.

"I believe you have what is rightfully mine."

Too soon since earlier that same day, a strangled cry rang out. Squall and Aerith turned in time to watch Cloud drop to the ground, his fingers digging into his scalp and choked sobs of agony wrenching free from his throat.

"The noise…" he sputtered. "… can't…"

Just as suddenly he was still, eerily calm.

"Cloud…?"

Squall brought his hand out, stopping Aerith in her tracks as surely as he had halted his own.

"Good boy," Sephiroth was speaking to him, coaxing him as one would a dog. Cloud answered him, rising again to his feet. "Now… bring me the Materia."

Squall's eyes widened, his other hand reaching for one of his blades. "Aerith, get out of here."

"But…"

Cloud turned to face them, his hand already drawing the Buster Sword from its sheath. Each step was quicker than the last.

"Go! _Now!_"

Ascalon crashed against the incoming edge with a loud chime, Sidewinder only just coming up to assist as soon as Aerith was clear. She neared the cliff edge, her eyes still hesitant to leave the two locked in battle.

A grip like iron elicited a startled cry, before she looked up where Sephiroth blocked her exit.

"No one leaves."

As she was shoved roughly to the ground, she heard steel meet flesh. Someone screamed. She watched as one of them fell.

"… _Squall!_"

_(to be continued…)_


	9. And Slowly That Crack Widens

"_Wait…"_

"… _what is it?"_

"_I need you to do me this favor."_

* * *

She heard steel meet flesh. She heard him scream.

And she watched as he fell to the ground.

"… _Squall!_"

The boy was not getting up, his body wracked with shivers as he clutched desperately at his leg. Standing over him, Cloud's face remained an emotionless blank. At his side, the edge of the Buster Sword dripped blood.

He was moving slowly, like a puppet controlled by strings, until he was at last down on one knee. His hand dug into Squall's clothes, searching him roughly for a specific prize. When he came away with nothing, his hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of Squall's collar. Hauled partway up, the boy pried his eyes open to glare back.

"You know what I want," Cloud told him.

"Your… breath stinks," Squall spat back at him. Any further insults ended in a sharp "crack" as his head connected with the hard earth.

"You took the Materia," Cloud continued the interrogation. "Where is it?"

There was a wet cough. When Squall answered, he sounded like he was gargling. "You seriously… think I'd… tell you?"

"Cloud! Stop!" she cried; words fell on deaf ears as that powerful fist slammed into the boy again. "You're killing him!"

"Not yet." It was Sephiroth who had spoken this time, his eyes taking it all in as though he were but admiring the view. "But unless he learns from his foolish behavior, that can so easily change…"

Fists soaked from finger to knuckle in red drew back. Their victim was allowed half a breath before they moved in again.

* * *

"_But… why? I don't understand."_

"_They're expecting me to have it. Cloud expects me to have it. The safest place for it now is away from me."_

_The sphere was so big, her hand barely fit around it. There was no way they were going to pull this off._

* * *

As though taking some hidden cue from his puppeteer, Cloud dropped the boy and straightened. Then he drove his foot into Squall's leg, his heel digging into the wound he had created only moments ago. The calls from their friends above the pit were drowned out as Squall screamed again, only encouraging the former SOLDIER to push harder.

Her tears were falling freely, her terrified sobs muffled by her hand. It was breaking her to watch the man she was starting to fall for slowly murder the boy she thought of as family. To do nothing but watch.

She had made a promise. She had to keep it.

But at what cost?

Cloud picked up his sword again. He changed his grip, aimed down at his fallen victim, and raised for a definitive strike.

* * *

"_Don't let anyone take it from you."_

"_Squall, I can't-"_

"_Sis, please," he whispered. "You're the only one I can trust."_

* * *

"I have it!"

The red-tainted edge stopped just short of its mark. It was Sephiroth who turned to look at her; even under the sickly glow of his eyes, she did not slow in her motive, not until she had the sphere in her hand.

"The Black Materia is right here." Holding it out, she pleaded, "Let him go… Let them both go."

A slow, thin smile spread across Sephiroth's face. He took it from her without a fight.

"Wise choice, girl."

Cloud seemed to relax, to recover himself… and then he drew back once more to finish the strike.

"_NO!_"

The sword connected.

And then the sword swayed from the earth it had landed in, its wielder losing his grip to collapse limply beside it.

In a rush of wind, Sephiroth was gone. The air cleared, the chill lifting from around them, and Aerith broke into a run.

Blood and broken bones. A boy slowly dying in her arms. A man breathing so shallowly and trapped in a catatonic state.

Closing her eyes, willing as much healing magic as she could to work for her, to help her… she could still hear that cold, cruel laughter. She had saved a life… but she had handed over the entire planet to be destroyed.

"… I'm sorry…" she sobbed into his torn shirt. "I'm so sorry…"

What… was she really apologizing for…?


End file.
